I'm bored, and since Kenneth and Nicholas have been so rapidly updating...I think I'll just add another entry. Just for the heck of it.

I've decided that humans are a very amusing bunch of people. The smartest...and by far the most stupid.

First off.
Why do people strive so hard to excel in something- when it only means that their worst fear will become the fear of losing the ability to pull off that particular something? Example: A ballerina. She trains for hours on end; works her way through countless pairs of shoes every week; goes to bed with bleeding feet; forces herself to plaster on a mechanical smile, even when her muscles are screaming out in protest as she twists herself in various unnatural positions. And what is a dancer's greatest fear?
...Not being able to dance.
Isn't it insane, how humans put themselves through so much? It would seem almost as if they enjoyed the pain of it all. But still, I find it horrendously amusing that people should aim for a goal so lofty that a fear of equal (if not greater) status shadows them.

Secondly.
Stereotypes.
We can never escape them.
Trust me- I've tried. Countless times.
Think with me, for a moment. Remember the harajuku girls? J-Pop culture? (oh gag me please.) Anyway. How did they all first come about? Yeah, that's right. It started out with one person who launched a brave attempt to be different- to break away from the norm. Oh wow, and look what happened. It became a whole new fad...and was, sadly, reduced to being mainstream.
It was inevitable.
How about the Goths? (FYI I'm not a Goth; for those of you who think I am. I don't even know how you classify a Goth- most of them are just poseurs. I mean; you could just take James Blunt, deck him out in all black, slather on the black eyeliner and add random wails and caterwauls into "You're Beautiful"...and whammo. Some people would probably already classify THAT is Goth.) It all originated through a bunch of teenagers who were unhappy with their middle-class lives. They saw the suffering of the people, and basically-rebelled against the comfort which they had not earned.
Yeah, and whoaaa. Look what we have now. Third Generation Gothie-wannabes who think that Gothdom is all about wearing black and silver; wanting to be vampires (Hey people- you could, like, contract AIDS); and looking as thin and pale as possible. "Goth" has simply become an overused term- another stereotype; no different from any of the others.
You can run and hide all you like from stereotypes- but. They. Will. Hunt. You. Down.

Yeah, and another thing.
Love.
So what's the big deal about love?
(I know I sound pessimistic- and I know love is vital. But just bear with me here.)
We let ourselves love people. We slowly break down the barriers and let them in; give them our trust. Why? Why do we do this? Why do we make ourselves so vulnerable? ...After all; the ones you love the most are most often the ones who hurt you the worst.
My theory? You have to get your heart broken at least once before you can find that one special person. I haven't had my heart broken yet, thankfully- but I'm not looking forward to it.
*makes a valiant effort to NOT end this point off pessimistically*
Still; without love, nothing would happen. Nada. Zilch. We could all go and commit mass suicide; and there wouldn't be a difference. Love makes people tick.
So don't tell me it's not worth fighting for.

...I'm bored; even of musing about the great mysteries of our vast universe.
*sagely nod*
But I have one more question for myself, and for anybody.
What is hope? Or, better phrased- what USE is hope?
Hope is the denial of reality. In the words of Raistlin: "It is the carrot dangled before the draft horse to keep him plodding along in a vain attempt to reach it." Ha. He'll never reach it, poor fellow. But it keeps him going on, anyway.
But for what? And to what?
Home, eventually, at the end of the day. To rest. To his own stable.
...And to wake up the next day to another backbreaking episode of following the elusive carrot.
Does hope ever really get us anywhere?
No, for the draft horse. But still, I suppose that in the best circumstances; it'll give us enough willpower to reach the end of the tunnel.
In the best circumstances.

...(Sigh.) I'm bored.
And feeling random.
And in the mood to think.

What if I was the only person in the whole world?
If I murdered someone, it would be a suicide. I would be my mother; putting a band-aid on my own knee when I fall down at the playground. I would be my father's arms, teaching myself how to use a chainsaw. I would be my own teacher, and I would be my own student. I would be the one in front of the chalkboard, and the one sitting in her desk, listening.
I would be my own friend...and my worst enemy.
I would ride off into the sunset with myself, just like in a Cinderella story gone wrong. I would raise myself in a quiet little town, and I would pack myself off to kindergarten everyday with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I would read myself bedtime stories, and run to myself when the thunder and lightning scares me.
If I committed suicide, it would be a murder.
Then I would be the policeman who investigates my own death. I would be the undertaker, who straps me into a black shroud and into a coffin; into the flames; and then into an urn. I would be the preacher, saying everything good I had never heard about myself while I was alive as the coffin slowly enters the furnace. I would be the mourners; breaking down in anguished sobs as the nails are driven into the coffin. I would be the corpse, oblivious to the white static of cremation.
A year later, I would be the person who dedicates a column in the obituary "in loving memory of myself". I would be the little child who lays flowers on my grave.
And I wonder- after I died- would life still go on, then?

...Enough. I should really be trying to finish my homework now.
No more philosophical rants for tonight. It's back to The Jinx Of Holiday Homework. Have faith, my brethren- and let's go follow the drafthorse's carrot.